Almost Lover
by Tae-la-la
Summary: Tragedy strikes WMHS when a student commits suicide, and everyone handles it differently. But it hits one harder than the rest. KURTOFSKY


The news said "Outed Gay Teen Commits Suicide."

Like that summed it up.

Like those five words could encompass the life he had lived, the joy he had felt, the pain he had endured, the love he had inspired. The all consuming hatred that had eaten away at him until all that was left was a terrified boy aching for a way out.

They couldn't get an interview with his parents, so they had tracked down his classmates. Only a few were willing to talk about it.

Quinn forced a sweet smile while assuring the camera that he had had such a good heart.

Santana attempted to say… something. No one was really sure what. Midway through her first sentence she had fallen to the ground, sobs rattling through her body. Her slender figure just looked fragile as Brittany rushed to hold her, trying and failing to bring her some measure of comfort.

Mike and Tina only said what a shock it all was. They answered question will dull, stunned voices, and Tina clutched Mike's hand so hard the blood stopped flowing. Mike didn't even notice.

Finn Hudson was really the only person who wanted to do an interview. He felt it was important, vital, for someone to convey that this boy was _so_ much more than an "outed gay teen." But when the reporter with the poofed up hair asked him if he'd like to say a few words about the deceased, he shook his head.

Shook his head, and pulled Kurt closer against his chest.

Kurt's eyes were dead, his lips parted, expression… broken. He clutched his brother's shirt helplessly, as if clinging to him could somehow force the world to stop spinning.

The funeral was nice.

Kurt hated that phrase as much as he hated funerals. How can it be nice? Looking at someone who had meant something to you, maybe everything, and realizing that they're not in there anymore. Even knowing that there is no laughter left inside that shell, watching fresh brown earth rain down over the last closed door felt like all the life had been drained out of you with one cold, swift pull.

But, as funerals went, this one was… nice.

The sun was shining, and yet it seemed like there was a shade of gray hanging over everything. Most of the kids from their Senior class had shown up, dressed in their best black attire.

It had taken every ounce of motivation Kurt had left in him to rise out of bed and put this lovely suit on. Every part of him wanted only to lay there and let time drift by, never leaving his sweatpants and t-shirt. But he remembered clearly how this boy had once drunkenly told him he looked 'pretty' in a suit. So Kurt had dressed up, done his hair and makeup, and made himself look the best he probably ever had. He done this for the boy, the last thing he could ever do for him.

Kurt didn't hear the minister's words come to a stop. Didn't notice the crowd dissipating. He didn't see the mother fall to her knees and be carried about by her husband. All he saw were the words on the stone.

_David Karofsky. Beloved Son._

His eyes did not move from that name, did not blink, until Mercedes gently touched his shoulder. "Kurt? I think you should go home. Get some rest. It's been a long day."

His eyes fell to the grass beneath his feet. It was several minutes before he broke the silence. "Blaine told me he loved me. It seems like it was a long time ago… and I said it back. But I didn't… it wasn't real, it was never real. This-" Kurt raised his hand to his mouth, and Mercedes could not understand why he carefully traced his lips with the tips of his fingers. "-was real."

"Sweetheart, I… I'm not really following."

He looked into her concerned eyes, and spoke the words he'd sworn to himself would never pass his lips. "I love him."

His best friend struggled for words, but found none.

He didn't speak to anyone in the car on the ride home. When they got there, he shut himself in his room. He did not turn the light on, did not remove his suit. Just collapsed onto the bed, and didn't move. He never wanted to move.

"Um, hey Kurt?"

He wanted to tell Finn to go away, but he felt it would require more energy than he had to speak the words.

Finn waited in the dark and the silence for a moment before walking forwards to stand nearer the bed. "Look, I know you don't feel like talking right now. But whenever you do… I'm always here for you."

Kurt tried not to think that he should've been there for David.

"Also, I um, I brought you something." He hesitated, paused awkwardly, and laid it on the bed before walking away.

Kurt allowed his eyes to flicker down just enough to see what it was. He sat up slowly and reach towards it, touching a hesitant finger to the fabric as if any contact might make it turn to smoke and fade away. His voice was hoarse and shaky. "How did you-"

"I kinda stole it." Finn stopped with one foot on the bottom step, his hand griping and releasing the rail in turn. "I broke into his locker at school. I don't know why, I… and it was just there. He was always talking about how if he was dating someone, he would give them his letterman jacket, so."

Kurt swallowed and pulled his hand away. "He wouldn't want-"

"Yes he would," Finn cut him off. "He… you may not believe it, I know it sounds crazy, but… I think he loved you."

Neither of them spoke again, and eventually Finn left.

He wasn't sure when he fell asleep, but he must have. David sat on the edge of his bed, smiling at him. Kut just watched him for the longest time, terrified that any movement or spoken word might make the vision disappear.

Dave broke the silence, nodding to the jacket laying across the bed. "Why aren't you wearing it?"

"It's not mine."

The other boy laughed softly. There was too much joy in his eyes to be anything but a dream. "Don't be an idiot, fancy. It's yours."

Kurt couldn't restrain the tears that began to tickle his cheeks. "You were my first love."

Dave smiled and brought a hand to Kurt's cheek. It didn't feel like a dream. It was warm, solid, and real. "You were mine too, fancy. First and only. My heart never belonged to anyone but you, and never will. I wouldn't have it any other way. I'm yours."

It was so real. "Don't go…"

He scooted closer, and Kurt felt the bed shift under the weight of a real person. "I'm not leaving you, not ever. I'm right where I belong." He slid his hand down to let it rest over Kurt's heart, and Kurt clutched it to hold it there. "I love you, Kurt. So much. I should've told you that."

Kurt's lips found David's.

The world felt so right.

The sound of his bedroom door falling shut yanked him from his paradise, and Kurt sat up quickly. He didn't wipe the tears from his eyes as he watched Blaine come down the steps.

When he reached the bottom, he just looked at his boyfriend. Opened his mouth, closed it, swallowed, and opened it again. "Are you-" He stopped, shoved his hands in his pockets. "That's a really fucking stupid question. Of course you're not okay."

Kurt tried to focus on Blaine's eyes, but it was difficult in the darkness. "Blaine, I need to tell you something that-"

"Shh…" He crossed the room quickly and climbed onto the bed to sit before Kurt. "You don't need to explain. I know."

Oh. Kurt wondered how long Blaine had known that he was in love with someone else. How that must've felt. "I… I'm sorry."

He shook his head softly, looked around, and picked up the jacket that still lay there. "Stop that. It doesn't matter. Right now I'm not Blaine your boyfriend. I'm Blaine your friend, who wants to help you through this." As he spoke, he had draped the jacket around Kurt's shoulders, and now Kurt clutched it around him desperately. "You're going to be okay."

He nodded and rested his head on Blaine's shoulder, letting the boy hold him. But he knew. He knew he would never be completely okay. He had realized there was one person in the world who was created for him, _just_ for him.

You don't get a second chance at that.

The worst part is realizing you haven't died with them.


End file.
